Aise
by VirgoMaiden
Summary: Based off the episode summary for "Truman's Last Chance." Derek chaperones a Casey/Truman date. What follows? Drama. And a possibly broken nose. Rated for language and implications. Dasey.


**A/N:** "Aise" basically means "comfort" and "joy" in French. Please correct me if I'm off on this.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own LWD. If I did, there would be no theories coming from me about how the "Truman's Last Chance" episode would go. It would be fact. Solid, Dasey fact. Supported by science.

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"**AISE"**

**A LWD fanfic**

**By VirgoMaiden**

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Loud music. A lakeside house two hours away from London. At a party thrown by some dork he didn't know, Derek knew that his Friday night was not supposed to be like this, and thought this, making his way through the crowded house to where the keg was located. He was _not _supposed to be responsible for taking his stepsister and her new "boyfriend" to a party almost two hours away. (Derek wished that Casey had more taste – i.e, anyone _not _Truman – but, seeing who her ex-boyfriend was, it was a bit too much to ask her.) True, it _had _been his idea to chaperone the event, but who could have guessed that he would have been paid off by none other than the grade-grubber herself to leave the two of them alone? He sure hadn't seen that coming.

He could tell, from the shape that the keg and coolers were in (when he finally found them) that the person who was throwing the party was new to the entire process; he would have bet his bottom dollar that the host and Truman were buddies from the former's old private school, were the opportunity to arise in the near future.

And the music sucked. It sucked more than Casey's "angry" music. Which was saying a lot. He decided then that when he found Casey he was going to demand a raise. No way was fifty bucks worth all this…

Drink secure, he took up a spot on a couch that a couple had vacated, ready to scan the crowd for a hint of stepsister when who should chose the slot of space next to him but a girl who soon revealed herself to be going to the Uni a few miles away? A _college _girl_? _He would have cursed his short attention span, but he was already completely absorbed in New Girl. Her name was Brittany or Courtney or something with an "I" sound at the end… he couldn't remember. He didn't think that he was expected to, either.

And so he spent about an hour with N.G. She talked a lot, which was fine, because he didn't really feel like talking too much. She was also into filmmaking, so he felt like he wasn't going to nod off the first chance he got. She was in the middle of telling him about the application process for different film schools when the crowd parted and revealed a very distressed-looking Casey.

He looked up at her in surprise; surely, being paid to leave her and "Tru" alone for the night meant that she wasn't interested in seeing him, right? Right, he decided mentally. Until he saw how red her eyes were, and how messed up her hair was, and that her cardigan was missing a button. Before he was able to comment, Casey spoke:

"Derek…" She didn't look at him, instead choosing to cross her arms and look down at the floor. "…Take me home," she said quietly.

He couldn't hide his surprise. "What?" he asked incredulously.

"Take me home. _Please._"

Derek's eyebrows disappeared into his hair. Casey wasn't too polite when it came to him, but even without a prompt she had dropped the p-word? Without another word he stood up and set his red cup on the table, effectively ending his conversation with the college girl. "Yeah," he said, and took her arm, leading her through the crowd. "Come on. Where's your coat?"

"…I don't want to say," she whispered, her eyes still on the ground.

Derek took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "You're going to have to, Case," he said, turning to her and speaking in a flat tone, despite the fact that she probably couldn't hear him since the music was turned up so loud that the floor beneath him was vibrating.

"…It's in one of the bathrooms upstairs," she finally said.

"OK then," Derek said. "Just wait here for a minute, then – ''

"No!" she said quickly, and grabbed a hold of his jacket sleeves before he had gone three feet from her. "Don't leave me!"

Derek didn't respond to this new development; not immediately, anyway. His mind was doing double-time, thinking of every single thing that could have happened upstairs that had made her afraid of being alone. He then stumbled on a suggestion and his eyes narrowed instantly.

No. No, Truman did _not._

But oh, _yes_. Yes, Truman _did_, his inner voice said as Derek looked at Casey. Neither had moved much since her protest. And, truth be told (not that that "truth" thing was going to become a habit, or anything), at the moment, he didn't have any intention of letting her go.

"Come on," he finally said, and took a hold of her hand and led her upstairs, his own voice unrecognizable to him. He knew, also, that this feeling coursing through his veins was much more different than if it had been Marti in Casey's place.

This was all because of _Truman._ Derek mentally swore that when he would next see the cocky, arrogant bastard he was going to be ripped a new one. Or, Derek thought, he would be satisfied with just ripping him. He briefly entertained the idea of throwing Truman on the hockey rink and seeing how well it would go for him _then…_

"This one."

Derek started at Casey's voice; he had been so engrossed in his own plans of revenge that he had almost forgotten about her. But a little voice in his head told him that, no, he wouldn't be forgetting the feeling of her hand in his any time soon.

Cautiously, he opened the bathroom door, half expecting someone to jump at him from behind it. No, instead he saw a couple, making out on the counter.

"Hey, man…" the guy said, pulling away from his girlfriend. "Get your own room."

Instead, Derek strode forward, Casey still in tow, and made something of a show of grabbing her coat that was crumpled on the floor, next to the toilet.

"Don't mind me," he said, holding up the coat and giving the couple a cheesy smile. "Just had to get something."

"Whatever…" he heard the girl mutter, and as he closed the door behind him, he heard her add, "Now, where were we?"

Casey was still silent, standing there awkwardly. She only accepted the coat when he shoved it in her arms, and he began pulling her down the hall. As she opened her mouth to say something, a voice interrupted them:

"Casey! What the hell are you _doing?_"

Casey immediately froze up; Derek nearly fell forward from the sudden stop she made (_Nice to know Newton's laws are still holding up,_ he thought sarcastically). And, turning around, he saw that her fears were only confirmed.

Truman. Standing roughly ten feet away, his fists were clenched as if he was ready for a fight, his brow lowered. His goddamn spiky black hair being all…_spiky._ And Derek was seeing red. What _right_ did the…_asshole_… in front of him have to be _angry?_

"Casey," Truman continued. "Really. What. The. Hell. Why are you with _him_?" He spat 'Him' out like Derek was an unpleasant taste; Derek couldn't exactly say that the feeling wasn't mutual.

"Screw off," Derek snarled, and turned around, Casey stumbling behind him, and took off down the stairs. He could hear Truman's yells of protests behind him, but he wove through the crowd with great speed, shaking their pursuer off.

Until they hit the lawn, and then Truman was outside seconds after Derek and Casey. The Venturi-McDonald team were making their way to The Prince as fast as they could without actually breaking out into a run, and so it was there, at the edge of the lawn, that Truman caught them, cutting them off from their means of leaving.

 Truman's expression, once furious, was now laced with disgust. "What are you doing with _him, _Casey?" he asked in a mocking tone. "Dressing like _that _tonight and _I'm_ not enough for you? You have to play the incest card?"

Derek heard a sharp intake of breath next to him, and he knew that Truman had gone too far. Casey might have been too afraid to say anything, but Derek sure as hell wasn't. The two males began to stalk towards the other, both glaring. Truman was taunting Derek while the latter chose the stony silent route, cracking his knuckles as he assessed his opponent.

"What," Derek finally said, "the hell is your problem?"

"The fact that I can't get anywhere with the tease back there," Truman shot back. "She dresses like that and doesn't think that I'd react to it? And also – the creepy 'brother-stalker-protector' schtick is getting old, D. She's already acting like she lives in 'Blue Lagoon' – being infatuated with you, dressing up like she did for you. It's so obvious. Could you two grow _independent_ of each other and _not_ play the incestuous pair? Get a new tune already, because this one's overplayed."

Derek didn't say anything to this; as Truman's words echoed in his mind like an obnoxious, broken record, Derek brought his fist around in one smooth motion and it connected solidly with Truman's nose (Derek heard a loud, satisfying _crack_) and Truman fell and didn't get up from where he landed.

"Don't talk _shit_ about Casey," Derek spat, although her old date probably couldn't hear him. "You do, and you're _done._"

He then turned around and led Casey to the car, where he helped her in before stomping to his side and sliding into the driver's seat. Despite his anger, he managed to buckle up his seat belt, back out his car neatly, and get out onto the country roads. Routine: that's what he needed, he figured. Ignore what Truman had just told the two of them and _breathe_ (In and out. He could handle that, right?)

Casey finally spoke up when they had been in the car for a near half-hour (a half-hour of agonizing silence).

"I'm sorry," she said, quietly, looking down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap. "For getting you dragged into this. But, I'm also…not."

"Don't be sorry," Derek said firmly, staring at the road ahead. He was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she added, and plucked the collar of her cardigan. "Truman's right… I am – ''

Derek whirled his head around to face her. "No," he said firmly. "Truman…he wasn't right. You're not a tease, Casey," he continued, looking back at the road. "He's just… He was wrong."

"Can't think of the words?"

Derek shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "All I know is that he isn't going to come within ten feet of you or else he's going to answer to me." Derek paused before adding quietly, "What happened?"

Casey was quiet for a moment. And then, with a shuddering breath, she said, "Long story short, he got too close for comfort."

"Did he - ?"

"No," Casey said quietly, firmly. "No, he didn't. He wanted to, though. And I – I didn't, since we haven't been out much? I didn't know him very well. So I told him that, and he got angry, and then he tried to get me to go with him, into the bathroom… But I threw my coat at him and found you downstairs. And you know the rest." She rubbed one of her eyes, refusing to look in his direction.

"Yeah…" Derek trailed off, and before his brain caught up with what his body had done, his hand reached out and took her hand. She stiffened at the sudden contact, but didn't say anything; in fact, she laced her fingers through his and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes.

"…Are you going to kick his ass later?" she asked, her voice faint.

He nearly jumped, thinking that she had drifted off.

Derek snorted. "Why wouldn't I? That guy didn't know – doesn't know what he was talking about."

Casey was quiet, although her silence made it obvious to Derek that she knew what he was alluding to: Truman's declarations of an incestuous relationship.

"Didn't he?" Casey finally asked quietly. "I don't know what you're thinking, Der."

Maybe it was because he was tired physically and emotionally. Maybe it was because he had had a drink or two. Maybe it was because he felt like Casey deserved an answer. Or, maybe it was because he thought that she wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning. In any case, he sighed and adjusted his one hand on the steering wheel.

"I'm thinking that I'd like to punch that guy's face in for calling you a tease and making you cry," Derek said finally. "I'm also thinking that you don't deserve to go through this kind of shit. And that Truman is a prick who doesn't deserve you, and that if you wanted to have a love/hate relationship, why was it not with me?" The last bit of his speech came out before he knew it had, and as soon as the words left his mouth he knew that there was no damage control that could be done to rectify the situation. He had dug his grave. Now he would have to die in it (or at least, that's how he thought the saying went).

"Maybe it was because I was expected to go out with him?" Casey finally said, her words in the form of a question. "Or maybe because he was something that I couldn't have?"

"What do you mean by that?" (Derek decided that, in the morning, that he wasn't going to deny being this calm and rational and… "touchy-feely" around her, even though it could be used against him later.)

"I can't…can't have you," she said, her words as awkward as the way she said them. She pulled her hand out from under his and added, "Not that I want to, either," she quickly amended. "I just…can't." She avoided his gaze again, and he could see in the reflection of the shotgun mirror that her cheeks had turned a bright red.

A smirk from Derek. He almost recognized this as a challenge, and he intended to keep up with it. "Oh you don't, huh?" he asked.

"I don't."

"I think you do."

"What do you mean 'you think'?" she asked, clearly not expecting his comment. He slowed down and stopped at a traffic light; the first on their way home, which meant that they had a bit less than an hour of "alone" time left…

"To clarify? 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much.'"

Quiet. Then:

"And here I thought that you were too busy with your new girlfriend of the week to have paid attention in English class," Casey finally said.

"Me also thinks that the lady doth change he subject too much."

"Can we not get into this right now, Der?" Casey finally asked. "It's late. I've had a bad night. And I thought that I'd be able to deal with this now, but… I can't. It's hard."

"To think?"

"Talking about…this," she replied, waving her arms around in a vague fashion. She turned to him again. "_Us. _It's a subject best saved for the morning."

"That works, I guess," Derek said, nodding, and nudged the gas, moving through the intersection easily.

Casey took his hand then (_third _time in a single night? He was getting more than most of her old boyfriends.) and, with her other one, rubbed the top of his hand. "Thank you," she said again, after a long, comfortable silence. "Thank you for coming. Thank you for chaperoning. Thank you for getting me out of there. Thank you for breaking his nose for me."

"Want me to do it again?"

"Knowing Truman? Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, _please_."

"Two mentions of the P-word in one night?" Derek asked, shooting her a playful smile. "I must be delusional."

"Oh, the lines that could spin off of _that_…" Casey murmured, giving him a smile. The first real one, he realized, of the entire night.

"A night so awkward and action-filled was bound to have some good lines in result," Derek said, nodding, as they passed by some of the office buildings of the downtown. _About fifteen minutes, _he thought. _How did we get here so fast?_

Casey gave a quiet laugh and looked out the window. "But seriously," she said. "Der, you're a nice guy with a soft spot for McDonald-Venturi girls."

"I'd hate to give that impression," he said, and before he knew it they were pulling into their driveway.

"One last thing?"

Derek looked up and over at her from where he'd been undoing his seat belt. "Yeah?"

Casey leaned over and kissed him on the lips before getting outside of the car. "I don't know how many times I can say this," she said, whispering. "But _thank you_ for being there for me when I _needed_ you. It means a lot to me."

"Anytime," he croaked as she got out of the car and into the house. He saw the living room light flicker on, and he wondered if she really _had _wanted him in a romantic sense. And then, before he got out of the car, he thought about how good it was to punch Truman. And how good it felt to kiss Casey.

He would have to do _that_ again sometime.

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**A/N:** Wowza. A oneshot the same week I finish my multi-chap? Amazing for me… But I hope you all realize that this is a pretty rare occurrence ; )

**Frogster** was kind enough to beta this and she asked a really good question (and I quote): _"__And do you think that Casey would really be at a party where alcohol was served? I think (and hope) that Casey's too much of a goody-two-shoes to condone anything like that, or be around it."_ (unquote) My thoughts on this are as follows: This is Tru's last chance, correct? I think that she would have let him choose the place, expecting him to present her with "the perfect date." (She's also told him, repeatedly, what that implies.) Also, her being around alcohol doesn't mean that she wouldn't drink any. Truth be, this party is the kind of scene that I imagined when I read the episode summary.

**Frogster** has also written a oneshot, titled _Dance Fever_, and I think that it's pretty good. So, do a pair a favor and read and review it? It'd be awesome if you did.

Finally, don't forget… Review if you liked this. I'm kind of nervous about this fic, so please… Click that little flag/bubble button below.

Thanks for reading!

VM


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